


The Night Grows, Only Slowly

by cerulean_blue



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerulean_blue/pseuds/cerulean_blue
Summary: Dylan never imagined he would land up in Edmonton finally. But he knew he would come running back to this place, taking the first flight out of Chicago, tearing through his life to be caught in a snowstorm of his making. He had never learned to say no to that man after all.





	The Night Grows, Only Slowly

Seeing the night sky made Dylan realize just how much the city had changed. The air was colder, biting in its touch, and there seemed to be a permanent haze blanketing the streets, with sickly yellow splotches at regular intervals. Not that Dylan ever felt welcome in Edmonton, it never seemed to let him in, no matter how much he traipsed through it, bounding through shops and restaurants in its lively downtown or basking in the warmth of its houses. Now he wondered if that was a warning. Edmonton taking pity on this tiny human, cautioning and turning him away before he got caught. 

But Dylan knew he would come running back to this place, taking the first flight out of Chicago, tearing through his life to be caught in a snowstorm of his making. He had never learned to say no to that man after all. The cold was making him slightly delirious, his jackets and layers desperately trying to shield him. He had an inkling Connor made him come out here, in the middle of January, far away from the sun, just for this reason. 

He finally stopped in front of a house. His feet begged to turn back and run back to where he came from. Dylan however braced himself to drag his hand out of his warm coat to ring the doorbell. Some part of him prayed that the door would never open, but before he could give it much heed, the latch could be heard clicking. Bountiful warmth seeped out, the light caressing Dylan’s face. It urged him to just go in, and stay. 

The figure at the doorway stared but quickly spoke, “You’re here quick. Wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Dylan finally had to face Connor, feeling the chill pass through him once again on hearing that voice. 

Connor looked good, the kind of well-being a warm house and mind could provide. Dylan was suddenly hyper-aware of himself. All his travelling through cities and homes and airports could scarcely have left him looking anything but pasty and sickly.

“Catching the first flight out of Chicago couldn’t have been cheap, especially with your current situation.” Connor’s voice dripped sweet condescension, leaving Dylan feeling breathless, words stuck in his throat. Connor had that special talent of finding his cuts and digging his fingers in, pressing until the pain became a constant, white noise of a radio running in the background. 

“Well, anyway, where are my manners? Greeting you at the doorstep in this cold. C’mon, sweetheart, we can talk inside.” Connor grabbed Dylan’s pocketed wrist, casually, claiming Dylan as he pleased, as if nothing had changed. 

Shutting the door, Connor led him into the living room. The warmth that had felt welcoming just minutes ago, suddenly felt oppressive, a building heat. Dylan could feel his skin prickling, like his skin slowly being cooked in a slow roast. Dylan felt uncomfortable in his multiple layers but had no desire to shed them off where Connor could see him.

“Long time no see, sweetheart.” 

Brushing his thumbs softly across Dylan’s wrist, Connor smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth tilting up. Seeing Connor after so long made something ache. Dylan didn’t realize how much he missed this touch.

Averting his eyes, “Yeah, been a while, Connor.” Trying to remain indifferent was a task, but Dylan knew he had no where else to go. He had to convince Connor to take him in. After all, how long would things have worked out in Chicago. It was better to leave before he was caught up again in a storm, at least in Edmonton Connor would protect him. He hoped. 

“So, you know what is expected of you here, right?” 

“Taking care of the packages? And transporting them?”

“For now. And you’ll have other work side-by-side every day.”

Dylan had an inkling of what he meant by that but didn’t care much to ask. His constant travel weighed him down finally, and the sweet warmth of the house lulled him into a slow state of stupor.

Dylan hated this life, wondering how different things would have been if he had never met Connor in the streets all those years back. Back then, he prided himself on his independence, and keeping his head high. Connor, back then, was a mere afterthought. Now, he could barely keep up, stumbling with his tail tucked between his legs.

Connor seemed to have noticed his slowly drooping eyes, and re-affirmed his grip on Dylan’s wrist to lead him down a hallway and into a room. “Sleep here for tonight. We’ll sort everything out properly in the morning.” Patting Dylan gently on the cheek twice, Connor’s gaze roved over the room before he strode out of the guest bedroom, leaving the door open.  
Dylan could barely take off his jacket and drop his bag before he crashed into the soft mattress, sleep and regret mixing with one another in a heady dance in his head. Sleep overcame him.

*

Dylan woke up with a start and was shocked to find his eyes prickling with tears. The room was colder than he expected, and falling asleep with no covering only exacerbated the chill. It didn’t take long for the previous days events to come crashing down on him in rapid succession, days and decisions jumbled together. The defeated sense of regret rose up once again, quickly morphing into panic. What on earth possessed him to come here, in such a rushed frenzy, just because Connor had called him? He had resisted Connor for so long, how could be think it was a good idea to come running back to him? 

His limbs jittery, Dylan jumped out of bed, grabbing his jacket and bag in a flurry, with a mounting need to immediately get out. Checking the time on his phone, he prayed that he wasn’t too late, slowly walking down the hallway, willing his feet to pad as gently as he could. Connor could see him anytime, what with his strange habit of never shutting doors.

He got to door, scrambling for his shoes when he heard, “Where do you think you are going?”

The voice seemed to echo loudly, bouncing around in Dylan’s skull. He assumed that he was being as quiet as possible. How did Connor even hear him? He should have been fast asleep, limbs sleep heavy and exhausted from whatever he would be out doing the whole day.

Dylan knew he had paused too long in his reply, there was nothing plausible he could cook up for attempting to leave the house at 3 in the morning. There was nowhere to hide and he clearly hadn’t thought this through. Connor’s presence at his back was paralyzing. He couldn’t will his feet to turn around, muscles seizing up, slowly turning to stone. His mind yoyoed between various possibilities and he thought wildly if he would be quick enough to unlatch the door and make a run for it. 

Tired and confused, he mumbled, “I-I don’t think I can do it Connor, I’m sorry. I’ll be out of here.”

Who ever dared to utter the word no to Connor McDavid.

“You have the most powerful man here asking you, showing a shred of interest in you, and you think you can pay no heed?”

“I don’t care for that.”, Dylan mumbled, slowly slipping away, his mind a whirlwind. 

“No, no, I don’t think that’s true at all. Why don’t we start from the beginning, hmm?”

From the corner of his eyes, Dylan could see Connor making his way towards him. He couldn’t muster up enough energy to even move back, despite his mind flashing red. His legs seemed like lead, with the taint slowly spreading through his body. His throat hurt and he wasn’t sure how long it was going last at this rate, and was terrified that Connor would ensure that it held up until the end of this ordeal. 

“Please, no, Con--Connor. Connor. I can’t.” Dylan whispered hoarsely. He could hear Connor’s sardonic laugh towards his right side. 

“It’s cute that you think you can’t. I think we both know that you certainly can come with me.” Dylan felt a hand gripping his shoulder roughly, and the other slowly pressing up his chest and sliding up under his jaw to cup his cheek. 

“It’s so easy. All you have to do is allow me to get you up and follow me wherever I go. You did it before, right? Calling me Davo and – “

“Shut up.” 

“Am I wrong?”

“SHUT UP.” Dylan could feel his throat being ripped apart, his voice bouncing around the furniture and opulence in the room. He was so, so tired. Everything felt so distant, and his sight was blurring, his puffy eyes fogged by tears. He knew he shouldn’t have come to Edmonton or ever naively believed Connor. 

“That’s all right.” Connor cooed. “You can’t deny all that has happened and all that you still want.” Dylan couldn’t back a chocked sob, struggling in his insignificant defiance. He could feel Connor becoming increasingly annoyed at the sniffling. He clearly still preferred the crying only when Dylan was under him, pressed into his sheets.

Dylan’s head was flung to one side in an instant as he felt the stinging slap land on his cheek. “I don’t need to be gentle, but I am. Don’t test my patience, Dylan. When I ask you question, I expect a clear answer.” 

“Yes, ye- no, I, I mean, no, you’re not wrong.”

“Not wrong, what?” 

“Connor?” 

“It’s Davo, remember?” Connor sighed, as if he was dealing with a slightly slow child. “You come here, willingly, to convince me somehow that you’re worth my time and effort, but if this is your best, I’m disappointed.”

“No, please, no, I’m sorry.” Dylan breathed quietly, his voice muffled. “I’m sorry for everything, Con- Davo. I promise I’ll make it up to you in every way I can. I’ll be the best possible boyfriend, partner, whatever, you could ever want.” He could hear the desperation lacing every sick word that spilled from his lips. He just hoped Connor wouldn’t abandon him. If people knew he no longer had Connor McDavid’s protection, he might as well have ended it in Arizona, parched and starving in the desert. 

“Damn right you will, Dyls. You’ll warm up to Edmonton in no time. I did. You can work as you want and come back to our lovely home every day.” Dylan could see the colour return to Connor’s face, his expressions become more animated. He just had to be nice and obedient for him, the one he once adored, to return. He just hoped it would be worth it.

“You know it’s going to be rough work here don’t you? Not like those soft hearts in Chicago, coddling you. I don’t want to hear complaints about our newest recruit. If you get smacked around, you take it.”

“It’s fine, Connor. You can too, you know?”

“I can what too?”

“Hit and rough me up.” Dylan felt sick forcing those words out his mouth, like liquid tar tainting his throat, his gums turning black. He prayed that this would be enough to convince him. “I know the work makes you angry, so if you want to let it all out, de-stress, I’m fine, y’know?” Connor for the first time, in Dylan’s experience, looked stunned. Dylan felt doubt creeping up after a stretch of silence. “It- it’s because I know you’ll make it better after? Right?”

Dylan slightly yelped as he was yanked forward, falling into Connor’s chest. Fingers ran through his hair, grabbing the short ones at his nape. Connor’s other arm snaked his back, holding him in an embrace. He pressed a chaste kiss to Dylan’s cheek and lifted him up to his feet. 

“I’m a real lucky man to have found such a lovely partner. I promise I’ll take of you too, sweetheart. Come, it has been a long day. You can even sleep in my room. It’s much warmer. Rest, and we’ll start afresh tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written anything. Just a short story that was in my mind for a while.


End file.
